eBook
Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
Related collections and offers
Overview
Tiger Ann Parker wants nothing more than to get out of the rural town of Saitter, Louisiana--far away from her mentally disabled mother, her "slow" father who can't read an electric bill, and her classmates who taunt her. So when Aunt Dorie Kay asks Tiger to sp the summer with her in Baton Rouge, Tiger can't wait to go. But before she leaves, the sudden revelation of a dark family secret prompts Tiger to make a decision that will ultimately change her life.
Set in the South in the late 1950s, this coming-of-age novel explores a twelve-year-old girl's struggle to accept her grandmother's death, her mentally deficient parents, and the changing world around her. It is a novel filled with beautiful language and unforgettable characters, and the importance of family and home.
My Louisiana Sky is a 1998 Boston Globe - Horn Book Award Honor Book for Fiction.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781429991025 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Henry Holt and Co. (BYR) |
| Publication date: | 02/15/2011 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 208 |
| Sales rank: | 431,737 |
| Lexile: | 770L (what's this?) |
| File size: | 430 KB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Kimberly Willis Holt is the author of the many award-winning novels for young adults and children, including The Water Seeker, Keeper of the Night, and When Zachary Beaver Came to Town, winner of a National Book Award for Young People's Literature. She is also the author of the bestselling Piper Reed series of chapter books, and picture books including Waiting for Gregory and Skinny Brown Dog. Holt was born in Pensacola, Florida, and lived all over the U.S. and the world—from Paris to Norfolk to Guam to New Orleans. She long dreamed of being a writer, but first worked as a radio news director, marketed a water park, and was an interior decorator, among other jobs. She lives in West Texas with her family.
Twenty three years ago Kimberly Willis Holt stopped talking about wanting to be a writer and started to pursue her dream. Because of her family's Louisiana roots she considers herself a southerner, but her father's military career took her to places beyond the South, including Paris and Guam.
She's the author of more than fifteen books for a wide range of ages, many of which have won awards and honors. Her third novel, When Zachary Beaver Came to Town won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature. She writes and gardens in Texas.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Folks around Saitter don't understand why parents would name their daughter Tiger. But Daddy says it's because of love. Momma had a kitten named Tiger when she was a little girl. She loved that kitten so much, she hugged it too hard and it died. Momma wasn't going to let that happen again, so when I was born she was real gentle with me.
Some people in Saitter say Momma and Daddy should have never been allowed to get married because they're different. Folks around here call it retarded, but I like "slow" better.
Even though Daddy got through twelve years of school, most folks say teachers felt sorry for skinny Lonnie Parker. Just passed him from grade to grade like they do some of the basketball players. Momma never went to school, but Granny taught her to read.
With those kind of odds, I should be dumber than an old cow. But I'm not. In fact, my classmates' parents are still scratching their heads trying to figure out how I got straight A's and won the spelling bee five years in a row. It's even harder for them to believe Momma taught me to read. But she did. Momma likes reading comic books. I read about Superman and Donald Duck when I was four. Now Momma likes me to read to her because I can read the words she can't.
*
It rained every day the week after I finished sixth grade. The clouds hung low in the gray sky and the raindrops poured down, hammering our roof with a constant patter. But by Saturday, the day Aunt Dorie Kay came to visit from Baton Rouge, the sun came out in all its glory and the sky returned to a brilliant blue. When we heard her car drive up near the gate, Momma ran out of the house like a little kid. She grabbed hold of Aunt Dorie Kay so hard, my aunt wobbled on her high-heeled shoes.
"Whoa, Corrina." Aunt Dorie Kay caught her balance and smoothed her dark hair back in place.
"Oh, Dorie Kay, I missed you so much," Momma squeaked. She stepped back with her dirty bare feet, admiring Aunt Dorie Kay from head to toe. "You're as pretty as a picture in a fancy ladies' magazine."
Aunt Dorie Kay was Momma's younger sister. To me, she was the most sophisticated person I had ever known. Today she wore a tailored navy blue suit that matched her shoes and she smelled better than the perfume counter at Penney's. She wasn't beautiful like Momma. Momma's long dark hair fell to her shoulders, and her body curved in all the right places. But somehow Aunt Dorie Kay's flat chest and narrow hips appeared stylish in her pretty clothes. She wore more makeup than any Saitter woman dared to, except for the women who went to the Wigwam honky-tonk on Saturday nights. But while their faces looked caked on, hers looked glamorous.
Aunt Dorie Kay gently cupped my chin with her hands. "Twelve years old. Tiger, you are growing up into such a young lady."
Her voice was smooth like a deep, calm lake. I wanted to dive right in and let it work magic on me. Turn me into someone I wasn't. But as I looked at my reflection in her eyes I was reminded of what I saw in the mirror. I saw Daddy. He was tall and skinny with thin red hair and a long neck. His narrow eyes squinted when he smiled and his nose took up a lot of room on his face. But folks say kids change a bunch before they finish growing. Especially in the summertime.
In the afternoon my best buddy, Jesse Wade Thompson, stopped by to say hello to Aunt Dorie Kay. He and I were sitting on the living room floor, drinking Grapettes and listening to Elvis on the radio, when we heard someone drive up.
Aunt Dorie Kay leaned forward, causing our tweed couch to squeak. She drew back the calico curtains. "Why, Tiger, look. Are you expecting something from an Alexandria store?"
I rushed to the window. A Mitchell's Appliance delivery truck screeched to a stop in front of our gate. Jesse Wade and I dashed to open the screen porch door for two men carrying a bulky box. Two weeks ago we received a box of twenty-four baby chicks Granny had ordered. But this box was almost as big as our woodstove.
I held the screen door open for the men. "Excuse me, sirs, but do you have the right house?" Brando, our one-eyed cat, leaped from the swing and pranced off the porch.
The taller man with a harelip exchanged smiles with his stocky helper. "I don't know. Whose house is this?"
My breathing was hard and fast. "This is the home of Jewel Ramsey and her kin." Jewel Ramsey was my grandma. I hoped the box was for us, but I knew it had to be a mistake.
They carefully lowered the heavy box onto the porch. The harelip man wiped sweat from his brow with his handkerchief and dug out some folded papers from his back pants pocket. He unfolded a yellow slip, then slid his finger to the bottom of the page. "Well, let's see here. You say Jewel Ramsey and her kin?"
I hunched my shoulders. "Yes, sir. That's what I said."
He frowned and shook his head. "Nope. I don't see anything that says that."
My heart sank. "It's probably for your family, Jesse Wade." Mr. Thompson owned the plant nursery where Daddy worked. They could afford things that came in big boxes.
Jesse Wade leaned his curly black head against the doorway. "We're not expecting any deliveries from Mitchell's."
Aunt Dorie Kay walked onto the porch while the man continued to study the papers. He frowned, shaking his head. "Nope. This here paper says for the family of Jewel Ramsey and Lonnie Parker." The corners of his mouth turned up into a slow grin.
The other man laughed loudly and slapped his knee with his hat. "Fooled ya, didn't we?"
My heart felt like it flew plumb out of my chest. I raised my chin and stood straight. "Yes, sir, that's my grandma and daddy. Right this way, sir. Can I get you some iced tea?" The men followed me inside, carrying the box. It took up so much space in our plain little room.
Momma darted out of the kitchen with a half-peeled potato in her hand. The spiral peeling bounced as she ran toward the box. "What is it?" she asked. "What's in that box?"
"Hold on, Corrina," Granny said, walking slowly behind and wiping her hands on her apron. Her black hair was pinned in its usual tight bun, but some fine locks stuck to her full face. Aunt Dorie Kay stood near the window, smiling as she watched us.
Daddy, returning from the garden, clopped up the porch steps. He started to walk in, then looked down at his muddy boots, backed out, and pulled them off. He walked in the house with white socks on his feet, rubbing a dirty hand across his red chin. I couldn't tell if his face was red from the sun or because two strangers stood in our house. He studied the box, then shyly peered at the men. As always, he spoke slow and cautious. "What's this box doing in our house?"
"It's for us, Daddy. The men said it was for us."
The deliverymen headed toward the front door. The stocky fella tipped his hat and said, "You folks have a good day."
The screen door squeaked open and shut as I examined the puzzled faces in the silent room. I dashed out the door before the men reached their truck. "Wait a minute, sir. Who is this box from?"
The tall man opened the truck door. "It's on those papers we left with you."
I ran back to the house and grabbed a paper stamped INVOICE off the box. It said Doreen Kay Ramsey. Aunt Dorie Kay bought it! I whipped around. "Oh, thank you, Aunt Dorie Kay!" It was just like Christmas.
She yanked gently on my long pigtail. "Don't you think you better see what it is you're thanking me for?"
Momma's focus didn't stray from the box. "Open it," she demanded. "Open it, Lonnie."
We all stood around Daddy while he drew his knife from his front pocket and carefully cut into the box. Cardboard sides flapped to the floor and revealed an object I had seen only in stores and Jesse Wade's living room. Dark oak surrounded a wide green screen. A brand-new RCA television set!
Momma jumped up and down, squealing like a baby pig. Daddy stepped back, stunned, brushing the hair from his eyes as Jesse Wade whistled approvingly.
Then, as if we all planned it, everyone, except Granny and Jesse Wade, grabbed Aunt Dorie Kay and hugged her until she lost her balance and fell to the couch, laughing.
"Thank you! Thank you, Aunt Dorie Kay!"
Momma raced to the TV and stroked it like a puppy. "Thank you. You're the best sister in the whole world."
Daddy clasped his hands together, cleared his throat as if to begin a speech, and said, "This is mighty nice of you, Dorie Kay Ramsey. It must have cost you a whole lot of money."
Aunt Dorie Kay must have made a big salary working as a secretary in Baton Rouge.
Granny frowned, turned on her heels, and marched to the kitchen, her apron bow riding high over her huge hips. A hurt look spread across Aunt Dorie Kay's face as Granny walked away.
I wondered why Granny wasn't happy like the rest of us. There weren't many families in Saitter with a television set.
"It's a beauty," Jesse Wade said. "Make sure you put a lamp on top. Momma says that helps you see better. Speaking of Momma, I better get on home. She'll be hollering for me if I don't."
My eyes were so fixed on that TV, I hardly noticed him leave. Daddy plugged it in, then Aunt Dorie Kay helped connect the rabbit-ear antennas. When they finished, she asked, "Tiger, would you like to turn on the television?"
"Yes, ma'am." I turned the knob to the right. We waited and waited. Maybe Marlon Brando would be on TV. My knees grew weak from the thought of seeing his dreamy movie star face right in the middle of my living room.
Finally the screen lit up like magic. Soon we saw a man in black and white like some of the movies I'd seen at the picture show. His lips moved, but we couldn't hear anything. We stood there with our mouths open, watching the man talk. Aunt Dorie Kay bent down and turned another knob. The man's voice boomed from the set. "And that's the news for June 1, 1957."
Everyone but Aunt Dorie Kay jumped back. Granny started out of the kitchen, frowning with her hands on her hips.
"Volume," Aunt Dorie Kay explained as she adjusted the knob that lowered the sound.
Daddy and Momma exchanged puzzled glances. Then their faces smoothed out. Momma smiled and Daddy nodded with a grin.
Later the Hit Parade Show came on. Daddy settled on the couch, clapping offbeat to the music, while Momma and I held hands and danced around the living room. Floorboards creaked as our steps thumped against the wood.
Aunt Dorie Kay perched on the arm of Granny's lumpy lounge chair, her eyes glazed as if she were miles away from our living room. Every once in a while she batted her eyelashes.
While Momma and I danced, Granny entered and sank into her chair. She stared at the TV, but a film covered her eyes like the times right before she fell asleep in church. She and Aunt Dorie Kay seemed to be in worlds of their own.
Then Granny spoke. "Don't you have better things to spend your money on besides a noise box?" Last year when Granny learned Aunt Dorie Kay hired a colored maid to clean her apartment, she'd said, "That gal thinks money grows on trees."
Now Aunt Dorie Kay said, "Oh, Ma, lots of families are buying televisions."
Granny shook her head and walked back into the kitchen. Her large, lumpy hips reminded me of two fighting cats trapped in a sack.
I sat down and offered a silly grin to Aunt Dorie Kay. She smiled back, but her eyes looked sad. Granny's comments spoiled the gift for me, but Momma kept dancing by herself around the room.
CHAPTER 2
Sunday morning Aunt Dorie Kay drove back to Baton Rouge. I stood in my nightgown on the porch steps, waving as she drove away in her green Ford.
Granny sat on the squeaky porch swing, sipping coffee. "Better hurry and get changed for church."
"I wish we could visit Aunt Dorie Kay in Baton Rouge. It must be so exciting to live in a big city."
"Hmmph." Granny's face pinched up like she had taken a bite of her famous sour pickles. "Ain't nothing exciting about not knowing your neighbor, driving in traffic, and breathing dirty air."
Granny seemed to resent Aunt Dorie Kay moving to Baton Rouge something fierce. She stood, walked over, and opened the screen door, then threw her coffee on the grass. As she looked at the sun rising over the pine trees she said, "This is God's country, Tiger. You'll learn that one day. Hope it don't take you as long as your aunt to find that out."
I loved Saitter. I loved the longleaf pines that grew thick around us like a fort. I loved the smell of honeysuckle after a hard rain and the way a swim in Saitter Creek cooled my skin. But I didn't know what was wrong about taking a trip away from God's country now and then. Even God let his angels fly away sometimes.
Granny walked into the house. "Better hurry. We need to leave for church in twenty minutes. Corrina?" she called to the back of the house. "Are you still sleeping?" "She's playing with the chicks," Daddy said.
"You better fetch her," Granny said, then she headed to her own bedroom.
Twenty minutes later I carried a buttermilk pie out to the truck. Once a month in the spring and summer our congregation spread quilts and blankets on the grass and ate dinner on the church grounds. Everyone brought a dish according to the first letter in their last name. A's through G's brought meat, H's through Q's — side dishes, R's through Z's — desserts.
Daddy met me at the truck with a bowl of string beans that Granny had cooked for Momma to take. His hair looked dark and greasy from the goop he used on Sundays to make it stand up in a flattop, and he smelled like he'd splashed on a heavy dose of Old Spice.
"Uh-oh," he said, tilting his head to the right.
"What?" I asked.
"Rain."
"But Daddy, the sun is shining mighty bright, and the weatherman on the radio said it's a perfect day for picnics. And baseball," I added silently.
"Nope. It's gonna rain. Hear them frogs?" Sure enough, the frogs' loud croaks bellowed around us. I had been too busy listening to the gospel songs on the radio to hear them.
Once when I was about five years old Daddy taught me to listen to the frogs as a sign of rain. We stood perfectly still with our arms stretched out like scarecrows and our heads tilted back. Soon we felt raindrops thumping on our faces and landing on our tongues. I learned Daddy was hardly ever wrong when it came to the weather, but today I had hoped he was.
"Yep," Daddy said as Granny and Momma approached, "the frogs are calling the rain."
Granny reeled around and headed back to the house. "I'm getting my umbrella. Lonnie's forecasts are better than my old bones." Granny said she knew when a cold front would blow in because she could feel it in her right arm where she broke it years ago.
Daddy learned the ways of the wind and rain from his daddy. Granny said Grandpa Parker was a wild man the way he camped on the creeks for months at a time while his wife and children survived on their own. Granny claimed that's what made Daddy's momma so cruel, raising young'uns by herself while her man lived on fish and animals he hunted in the woods. Every once in a while he returned home and brought his family a deer he had killed or a mess of catfish he'd caught. Sometimes he'd take Daddy back to the woods with him.
"If you watch and listen close enough, the earth talks to you," Grandpa Parker told him. He taught Daddy to notice how spiders build shorter and thicker webs before a storm, how frogs croak loudly right before a rain, and how grasshoppers chirp their loudest when it's hotter than the Fourth of July. Grandpa Parker knew how to breathe to the rhythm of the earth. That's why no one could believe it when he was struck dead by lightning while he fished in Tanner Creek. The sheriff found him laying faceup in the water with a perch in his net. Daddy said he reckoned that was a mighty fine way for his daddy to leave this world.
*
Sunday school was the best part of church because Mrs. Thompson, Jesse Wade's mother, was our Sunday school teacher. I loved to listen to her talk. Her people came from south Louisiana and she peppered her sentences with Cajun words like Oh yea, cher! which meant something like — Of course, sugar! She was lean, tan, and brown eyed, and she wore her short hair stylish like Aunt Dorie Kay. At church Mrs. Thompson always wore a hat, gloves, and a cross around her neck with Jesus on it because she used to be a Catholic. Our preacher, Brother Dave, said Catholics celebrated Jesus dying while Baptists celebrated Jesus rising from the dead.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "My Louisiana Sky"
by .
Copyright © 1998 Kimberly Willis Holt.
Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
